Authors: Valerie Wood
‘Maria, where’s Will?’ Lizzie ran swiftly up the stairs to the linen room where Maria was putting away clean sheets and inserting sprigs of lavender and rosemary in the folds to sweeten them.
‘Somewhere out in ’fields I expect. Why, who wants him?’
‘’Mistress has arranged to travel to Hull, only Walters didn’t come as he should. I’ve just been round to ’stable to fetch him and he’s laid out on his bed, not fit to move.’
She came further into the small room and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I think he’s had a drop too much, ’place stinks of liquor.’
Lizzie wasn’t given to exaggeration and she had seen enough inebriated men in her young life to know that the loud snores which Walters was emitting were drunken ones.
‘I’ll go and tell ’mistress that Walters is poorly. Run and find Will and tell him he’s needed back at ’house. Quick as tha can, Lizzie.’
With a nervous grin, Lizzie ran off as she was told and Maria went in search of Mrs Masterson. She found her, dressed in her travelling clothes, restlessly walking the floor of the drawing room.
‘What is happening, Maria? I sent Lizzie to see where Walters is and now
she
has disappeared. I’m not at all pleased, I particularly wanted to be off early today.’
‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Masterson, ma-am. But Walters is sick and not fit to travel. I’ve taken ’liberty of sending for Will if you need to go specially today. I didn’t want to risk Walters being taken poorly while you were on the road.’
‘No, of course,’ said Mrs Masterson, exasperated, and sat down whilst she pondered on whether or not to cancel her visit to the milliner’s to buy a new hat or risk being driven into town by Foster.
‘Is your husband capable of driving the carriage, Maria?’
‘I don’t know, ma-am, that’s why I’ve sent for him. He’s driven a cart into Hull often enough these last six years, and knows ’road well.’ She stopped as Lizzie came into the room.
‘Beggin’ your pardon, ma-am,’ Lizzie bobbed, ‘but Will Foster is here if you want to see him.’ She was hot and flushed after chasing all over the estate looking for him, finally finding him as he answered her shout, down on the shore with some of the village men as they inspected the state of the cliff.
On his way back to the house Will had examined the drunken Walters as he lay insensible on the straw in the loft above the stable, and knew without a shadow of doubt that he wouldn’t be conscious for several hours, if at all that day. He’d swiftly swilled his hands and face under the pump in the yard to make himself presentable and run his wet fingers through his hair, and now waited in the hall for his instructions from Mrs Masterson.
She surveyed him critically from piercing blue eyes, tapping the floor with the tip of her parasol. ‘I can cancel my visit to town if there is any doubt that you can handle the horses, Foster, though I particularly wished to go today.’
He inclined his head. ‘No need to worry, ma-am, I’ve handled ’pair before, Walters showed me how.’ He didn’t add that he had driven the carriage on two other occasions when Walters had been too drunk to stay on the seat. ‘I’ll just have to harness up, and change my clothes,’ he indicated his muddy coat. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Walters was several inches shorter than Will, though considerably wider around his middle, and although the dark red coachman’s coat with its shiny black butons, which he found hanging on a peg, was too short in the sleeve, the fit was fairly comfortable. Will caught sight of himself in a window and rakishly adjusted the cocked hat on his thick hair, winking at Lizzie as she watched him through the window.
‘I wish I could’ve gone, too, instead of Janey.’ Lizzie gazed forlornly after the disappearing carriage. ‘I’d like to have a look at ’shops some time, and ’ships in ’river.’
Maria put her arm around her in consolation. She knew that the girl was thinking of Jimmy, who with a supreme effort had conformed to the rules laid down to him, and had left them when he’d reached the age of twelve to join the whaling fleet. Maria was not a little relieved to see him go. He was a vexatious, restless child who made her feel uneasy, and there were times when she could see shades of his father in him. Although Lizzie had cried when he went, she too seemed less anxious and calmer since he had left.
They never had any message from him, and although they knew when his ship sailed, and had reports from John Rayner that he was shaping up well, he never once came to see them when he was in port, but stayed in lodging houses in the town. It was as if they had never been a part of his life and Maria knew that Lizzie once more had been hurt.
Will had been in the middle of a heated debate down on the shore when he’d heard Lizzie calling for him. The men had gathered there during working time, as the issue under discussion was considered to be of paramount importance requiring an immediate decision.
‘We’re talking about our homes and livelihood. God knows we don’t have much, but we’re going to finish up with nowt,’ said one irate villager.
‘Aye, look at Owthorne, there’s not much left, ’church is teetering on ’edge and can’t be used for worship. It’s a disgrace, summat should be done.’
Will had agreed with them; he’d seen the extent of the damage to Owthorne church. The churchyard was gone and the sea washed around the base of the cliff only yards below its cracked and broken walls. But without wanting to appear discouraging, he didn’t see what could be done about the cliffs at Monkston.
‘We can build a wall down on the beach along ’worst parts,’ Ralph Graves butted in. ‘There’s enough of us if we put our backs into it.’
‘What of?’ Dick Reedbarrow had been sceptical. ‘We can’t build it of clay, and that’s ’only thing we’ve plenty of round here!’
Graves was scathing. ‘Don’t give us any encouragement, wilt tha?’
‘Tha’s got to be practical, lad. No use putting effort into summat without thinking about it first.’ Dick stood his ground stoically. ‘I’ll do all I can, but it’s got to be talked about. Discussed, like.’
Martin had a suggestion. He scraped his boot in the soft sand as he searched for the right words.
‘It’d take a long time maybe, but if all them that has a cart or waggon could go down ’coast to collect ’rubble and waste from houses that’s already gone ower cliffs, then we could fetch it back here to build a wall.’
Some of the men nodded hopefully. It was the best suggestion they’d heard so far.
Will had shaken his head despondently. ‘Tha doesn’t stand a chance of building a wall strong enough. Other villages have built them and it didn’t work. Tha can’t keep ’sea back.’ The men stared at him sullenly. ‘It’s just impossible. Tha doesn’t seem to realize ’power of ’ocean.’ He pointed far out to sea where the grey waves flicked lazy white crests. ‘That’s where ’power is, not just here by ’cliffs, but out there, pounding away on ’ocean bed. Power that’s never seen, nor imagined, not unless tha’s seen a ship battered and torn by ’waves as I have.’
‘Tha doesn’t have to come in on this,’ said Graves sarcastically. ‘We’d best have a show of hands for them that’s willing.’
‘I’m willing to help,’ Will interrupted protestingly. ‘I just don’t think it’s going to work.’
He pondered on the problem now as he waited in the Market Place whilst Mrs Masterson made her purchases. Old Nathan Crabtree was the biggest worry, he mused, and though he’d agreed to help to strengthen the cliff just below his cottage, he thought it a better idea that they try again to persuade him to leave his home and come to live with them as Maria had suggested.
He shuffled impatiently as he waited and took off his hat, letting the breeze ruffle his hair; he was going to be behind with his work now, what with the village meeting and now the drive into Hull. He was provoked by Walters shirking his responsibilities; it wasn’t the first time that he’d found him drunk in the stables and he was fearful that he might one day go out under the influence of drink and turn the carriage over. On the rutted roads around Monkston care was needed, as he’d realized today. But the most annoying trait about the man was his arrogant and surly manner, and Will would not expect, or receive, any thanks for covering for him today.
He gazed around the Market Place. Things looked very much the same as they used to. There were still swarms of people gathered around the stalls outside the church, or watching the performing bands of showmen; but as he had driven into the town he had seen that old slum buildings and a disreputable house of correction had been demolished, and fine new red brick houses were rising in their place. He wondered where the slum dwellers had gone, for the new buildings were far too grand for them. Gone too was the old gaol and where it had been was a new, broad road lit up with street lamps.
Even King Billy had been cleaned up, he mused, as he looked down the long street and saw the gilded statue glinting. Maria would like to see that, he thought, it was always a favourite of hers, yet never once had she asked to come back to visit the town where she had been born.
A young boy took hold of a rein and stroked one of the horses. He looked up at Will. ‘Spare me a copper, mister,’ he said cheekily, though his pale eyes were anxious. ‘I’ve had nowt to eat since yesterday.’
Will felt in his breeches pocket but there wasn’t any money there. He put his hand into the inside pocket of Walters’ coat, found a coin and threw it down to the boy. He’d consider that a return for a favour from Walters. He watched the boy as jubilantly he ran off, shouting back his thanks. It could well have been Tom a few years back, he thought. Who knew what depths they might have sunk to had they stayed in the town, hawking or thieving, pilloried or gaoled? And here he was, dressed in fancy clothes, driving a carriage and pair and handing out money to beggars.
He climbed down from his seat as Mrs Masterson and Janey came out of the shop. Janey was carrying several parcels tied up with ribbon, and as he reached out to relieve her of them, he was suddenly jostled from behind by a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, and who bumped into Janey, sending the parcels scattering on to the road.
‘Look out,’ Will ordered. ‘Watch where tha’s going.’
Mrs Masterson drew back hastily into the shop doorway as the fellow tore past. He didn’t speak or apologize, but ran on, leaving them staring at his disappearing back.
‘I don’t think anything’s damaged, ma-am,’ said Janey as she picked up the scattered parcels.
Will handed Mrs Masterson into the carriage and for a moment gazed thoughtfully down the street. A strange feeling of disquiet had come over him, a vague sensation of familiarity with the stranger who’d glowered at him from under his hat. He tried to dismiss the thought. Probably it was someone with a grudge against the richness of Mrs Masterson’s appearance, the fine carriage and obvious wealth, but the thought worried away at him as he drove down the High Street on his mistress’s instructions to call at the Masterson office.
‘Will?’ Janey put her head out of the window as they waited. ‘Tha knows that fellow that nearly knocked us over?’
‘Aye, what of him?’ Will leaned down from the box.
‘Well, I’ve just seen him again, round ’corner. He’s been watching us. He seems a bit shifty to me.’
‘What does he look like, Janey?’ Will had caught only a glimpse of him as he ran past them.
‘Can’t hardly see his face for his great black beard,’ she answered, ‘and he’s got thick bushy eyebrows. Looks a proper villain to me.’
‘Tha can’t go by appearances, Janey.’ Will smiled down at her; he could see she was apprehensive by the worried frown on her forehead. ‘Why, look what a handsome fellow I am, tha’d never tell from my face what a scoundrel I am.’
She laughed back at him, her round face, so like her father’s, creased into dimples. ‘I don’t believe that of thee, Will.’ As they were talking Mrs Masterson came out into the street on John’s arm. He handed her in to the carriage and came to speak to Will.
‘Why are you here, Will?’ he asked. ‘Enjoying the sights of the town?’
‘No, sir, Walters is sick, and Mrs Masterson needed to come to Hull.’
John raised his eyebrows. ‘Sick?’ he queried. ‘Again? What’s the matter with the man? He was ill not long ago. Is it serious?’
Will hesitated. ‘Not exactly.’ He cupped his hand and made the motion of drinking. ‘Just a temporary condition, I would say.’ He didn’t want to get the man into trouble, but felt nevertheless that a warning might be in order.
John nodded. ‘I understand. Perhaps a second coachman might be a good idea? I might suggest it to Mr Masterson, but forget I ever mentioned it.’
The village men worked unceasingly every night for two weeks. They worked by lantern or moonlight until the early hours of daybreak. Most of them were working men and couldn’t take time off during the day, and they were anxious to build the wall before the onset of winter. Every available means of transport was taken along the sands and every piece of brick or masonry, boulder or cobblestone that they could lift was loaded up, carried back and deposited at the foot of the cliffs.
Will and Martin, who were working as a team, brought back their last load of the night and viewed the heap despondently.
‘It’ll make a wall no higher than a man,’ said Will wearily. ‘And first storm of ’winter will wash it away.’
‘That’s what me Da says,’ Martin answered gloomily. ‘He said it was hopeless, that’s why he wouldn’t come to help. Said we’d have been better building some cottages further back.’ He eased his aching back. ‘But it was surely worth a try, wasn’t it?’ he asked, anxious that his idea was sound. ‘We can’t move a whole village, church ’n all, now can we?’
‘No, ’course we can’t,’ Will replied, privately agreeing with Martin’s father. ‘Course it was worth a try. At least we’ve tried to do summat.’
There was a west wind, which blew off the land and dispersed out at sea, during the latter part of October, and so the wall held, much to Martin’s delight. But as November approached, the weather suddenly became much colder, the wind changed to easterly and there were a few snow showers.
‘I’m right bothered about that young woman and her bairns,’ Maria said one bitterly cold morning. ‘If tha’ll cover for me, Lizzie, I think I’ll slip over. ’Babby was poorly again ’other day and I said I’d take some syrup for him.’